


Into The West

by tahirire



Series: Spirit 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Spirit 'Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-20
Updated: 2008-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire





	Into The West

Sometimes, being a ghost is pretty freaking awesome.

But mostly it just sucks out loud.

Dean watches the sunrise from the window every morning, but the warmth doesn’t reach to his pale skin. There is an empty ache inside of him, a lonely cold place where his soul should be.

The corners of Dean’s lips twitch up into a begrudging grin. If he has to pick between this weird, ethereal existence and being where his soul is, it’s no contest.

He hovers restlessly beside Sam’s bed, watches his brother as he sleeps. Every now and then, Sam stirs, forehead wrinkling with tension, soft groans of distress coming loud and clear through his pillowcase. Sam is no stranger to nightmares, never has been, but these days it’s different, because Sam’s nightmares aren’t about what may happen to his brother anymore.

Now they are about what _did_ happen.

He can see Sam’s power, and it flows from his brother in gentle quiet waves, reaching out feelers in all directions, tasting, sensing. Defending. There isn’t a thought or emotion within a 50 mile radius that Sam can’t absorb if he concentrates enough.

Dean leans closer, frowning at Sam’s unrest. Sam moves as he moves, an unconscious dance between them. The bright spectral light of Sam’s power surges lazily, reaching out and surrounding Dean. It flows through him and fills the empty, hollow space. Sam sighs happily and falls deeper into sleep, safe now from his fears.

Dean rests a longing hand on his brother’s shoulder, concentrating on the feeling of _warmpeacehome_ flooding through his weary spirit. He sees his hand as solid. Watches the soft cotton of Sam’s shirt move beneath his touch.

In the endless void of this non-existent state, Sam is the only thing he can feel.

~*~

“Culver.” Sam said, standing back from the map. He blew out a sigh of frustration. Bobby’s place wasn’t exactly a stone’s throw from Oregon.

 _Wow. Bitch moves fast._

 __“Yeah.” Sam had been tracking Lilith all over the country, making sure she didn’t fall off the radar. He chewed his lip distractedly, frowning as he put the map away. The power inside him rolled angrily. It wanted to be set free. With an effort, Sam ignored the tug inside him, but he knew he was lying to himself. He wanted to listen to his instincts.

He wanted to make Lilith burn.

 _Sam, it’s ok. We’ll catch up to her soon._

Dean’s presence, while reassuring, did nothing to slake his hunger. “What’s taking Bobby, I wonder?” he mused.

 _I’m not sure. But we can’t stay around here forever waiting on him. Well – I could, but you can’t._

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s not funny?” A hint of what may have been desperation charged the air, making Sam’s chest clench. Dean was becoming restless.

 _I’m tired of waiting._

“And you think I’m not? I just don’t want to go after her until I tell Bobby about you. If –“ He stopped short. Dean wouldn’t want to hear it. His brother always shut him down when he got to this point. He wouldn’t ever listen to Sam say, if _something happens to me_. Sure enough, Dean’s answer came through loud and clear.

 _Nothing’s gonna happen to you, Sam. You’ve got this._

Dean’s unshakeable confidence lifted Sam’s spirit, but he knew it was a false sense of security. The feelings didn’t match his own. “Dean, she’s not like the others.”

 _Tell me about it._

“We can’t go yet. I’m not ready.” He lied, the slight flutters of fear running low through his gut contrasting with the annoyingly optimistic feelings he was getting from Dean.

Truth was, he was more than ready. He just didn’t need Dean to know about the hunger. He didn’t need Dean to know that when he said, ‘if something happens to me,’ death wasn’t the something he was worried about.

 _You are ready. I believe in you._

“Dean. I’m _not_ ready. We have to talk to Bobby first!” Sam insisted. A soft whisper like a sigh echoed back.

 _Ok, Sam. Ok._

 _~*~_

Two weeks. Two _weeks_ and Bobby still wasn’t back. He called to check in with Sam, knew Sam had finished his ‘hunt’, told Sam every day that he was sorry, he hadn’t forgotten that they still had work to do, he’d be back as soon as he brought these vampires down. “Hang in there, son. We’ll get this done, Sam. We will.”

“Bye, Bobby.” Sam’s hand clenched in frustration around the phone as he closed it, barely holding back the urge to hurl it across the room.

 _If it’s that important to you, just tell him! Like ripping off a band-aid. Nice and easy._

Sam snorted in disgust. “Yeah, ok. _‘_ Hey, Bobby, thanks for calling, no, I’m fine, by the way, Dean never went to Hell after all … yeah, sorry, I forgot to tell you about it … what? Oh, right. Well, you see, he’s a ghost.’” He said.

Sam grimaced, shaking his head at the irony. “Or how ‘bout I leave him a post-it that says, ‘Bobby, I found Lilith, she’s in Oregon, I’ve been practicing and I can kill demons now with my mind, so I’m gonna go get Dean’s soul back, don’t wait up, I put some extra beer in the fridge for you’!” The sharp edges of Dean’s frustration grated on his skin, buzzed through his mind, made it hard to breathe.

 _Damn, Sammy, PMS much?_

“It’s not something you just up and say over the phone, Dean!” Oh God, he was doing it again, with the high-pitched insistence and extreme hand gestures and why, _why_ did he always argue with Dean by _confirming_ Dean’s point in the first place? Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunched his eyebrows and prayed a silent prayer of thanks that he never actually became a lawyer. He’d have been even poorer than he was now.

Sam’s hazel eyes were dark pools of impatient thought. He wanted to talk to Dean, really _talk_ to him, look him in the eyes and read his secret thoughts the way he used to do, without the power. He wanted to see the confident smirk on his brother’s lips. He closed his eyes, and he sensed Dean waiting for him to say something.

If he could see Dean, really _see_ him, he thought he knew what he’d see. His brother’s face would be too pale, his eyes tense and haunted from too many hours alone, his freckles standing out too darkly against his skin. And blood. Blood on his chest, his hands, _everywhere_. It was enough. _Enough_. The power inside of him bubbled and rolled, a seething reservoir of fury waiting to be released.  
Sam smiled a wicked smile and embraced it.

 _Sammy?_

“Screw it. We’re going now.”

~*~

Sam had been dreaming again, he was pretty sure of it. From the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, it probably hadn’t been the best dream ever. _Screaming_. Sam wiped the sleep from his eyes and pushed back the dingy motel comforter. _Tearing flesh_. He shook his head to clear his early morning cobwebs. _The sharp, copper smell of blood_. “Stop it.” Sam whispered, pushing the memories down deep.

Sam checked the clock. 7:00 AM. He’d overslept, but the whole point of checking in here had been to get some rest anyway, and he had paid for an extra day so he wouldn’t be bothered. He’d practically run the Impala off the road before Dean had managed to convince him to get some sleep. He found himself automatically looking to the other bed – he still couldn’t quite bring himself to get a single – and swallowed hard.

 _Morning sunshine._

“Hey.” There was a pressure behind Sam’s eyes that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the fact that he’d just woken up. He rubbed his forehead distractedly. Dean’s impatience thrummed underneath his skin like an idling motor, setting all of his nerves on edge.

 _Thought you were gonna sleep forever. C’mon, let’s hit the road. I wanna get this over with._

“Alright.”Sam agreed. He hadn’t unpacked much, just his toothbrush and a change of clothes, and it didn’t take long for him to clear the room. He splashed water over his face in an effort to clear his head. Without warning, the power inside him surged suddenly, angry waves cresting over him. Sam gasped and gripped the peeling linoleum countertop in an effort to ground himself. He struggled to hold the power down. He felt slight pressure on his shoulder, sensed Dean looking him over.

 _Feel ok?_

“Yeah, I just …” Sam lost his tenuous grip. The vision slammed into him with all the fury of a tidal wave. Flash after flash of pictures half developed played across his sight, each image cresting the rise until one by one they blurred together.

The dizzying rush of images stopped abruptly, and Sam saw a man in a three piece suit. He moved smoothly but directly, as if he was on his way to an important meeting. Sam blinked, and his vision changed. The man faded to the background and Sam was left looking inside. A dark stain, black as pitch and twice as foul, covered the man’s barely living soul. “No, no no no …” The protest flowed from his lips unbidden as Sam tried to reign the current in.

 _Sam?_

Sam focused on his brother’s presence, on the feel of Dean calling his name. He concentrated on breathing, tried to see what was right in front of his face, to pull himself back into the present before …

Too late.

Sam watched in horror as the demon stopped walking, turned to regard the empty street, and smiled.

It had felt his presence. It knew where he was.

 _SAM!_

The connection snapped. Sam fell weakly to the floor, fine tremors running through his hands. He had no idea how long the little exchange had lasted.

“Demon,” He rasped out.

 _Where?_

“Coming. Here. Now.”

 _We gotta get you out of here._

“No time.” Sam replied. He lunged for his duffel and grabbed out the salt, quickly laying a semi circle across the base of the door and lining the windowsill. Initial moment of panic over, he stared blankly at the door, wondering what he was going to do when the demon arrived.

He was mainly just hoping it would arrive alone.

 _The hell, Sam? Mind tellin’ me what just happened?_

Sam cringed. He thought maybe he knew, but he certainly didn’t want to tell Dean. “I don’t know.”

 _I call bullshit._

“I don’t _know_ , Dean, alright?”

 _Fine. What do we do? Is it alone? What if it calls in its buddies?_

Sam weighed his options. They could run and hope the demon didn’t catch them, but it was close, and getting closer by the second. As far as he could tell, it was alone. He couldn’t risk it calling in reinforcements. He needed to take it out.

The boiling reservoir inside liked that idea.

Sam grabbed Ruby’s knife – his knife – from its resting place on the bedside table and headed for the door.

 _Where are you going?_

“Hunting,” he replied. He opened the door slowly, careful to not disturb the salt.

 _Sam, don’t._

He paused briefly, shuddering at the feel of the demon on his inner radar. His senses tingled with fire that begged to be set loose. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But enough is enough.”

When he closed the door, he tried to pretend like he couldn’t feel Dean screaming his name.

~*~

The early morning rays of the sun filtered through white clouds, falling in bright beams around the motel parking lot. Everything was in vivid focus as Sam waited; the smell of recently fallen rain, the sounds of chirping birds, and the rumble of cars passing by all blended together to form a single snapshot impression of his surroundings.

The struggling, stained presence of the possessed man was drawing nearer.

 _Sam, don’t. Don’t._

Dean was close to panic, and with a twinge of regret Sam found himself wishing he’d lined the whole room with salt instead of just the doorway. “I got it.” He snapped, casting for a location on the demon.

 _How do you –_

“Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe.”

Sam snorted. “Not for long.” The dark reservoir was already responding, answering Sam’s call.

 _Sammy, wait!_

Dean’s call was drowned out in the roar of the surge. Sam wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t going to expend his energy ripping this demon apart like he had the last one.

He was just going to blow it away.

With a surge of hate so intense in left Sam gasping for air, the killing power rushed outwards. It hit the demon instantly, and there was barely time for the monster to utter a scream before it ceased to exist forever.

The freed man blinked heavily, looking around the parking lot like he didn’t know where he was. Sam could feel Dean’s stunned disbelief as his brother swept Sam’s mental state through the link and found him healthy. “I’m ok, Dean. I’m ok.” Breathing heavily but otherwise feeling fine, Sam headed over to the bewildered man.

The angry heat of power settled back down, restless, disappointed. One demon wasn’t enough. Sam ignored the feeling. He had damage control to do.

~*~

Sam stalked back into the motel room, desperate to just pack up and go. The door slammed hard behind him, and he jumped in spite of himself. Figures Dean would pick now to learn how to go all Patrick Swayze on him.

 _What happened to you? How did you do that? Are you ok? Damn it!_

“I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

 _Don’t give me that crap, you’re not fine! Something changed, man – talk to me._

“I don’t know what you mean!” Sam protested weakly, wishing he knew where to aim the sincere look on his face.

 _Dammit Sam, don’t lie to me! I can SEE it, ok? I can see your power, and it’s dark, and it’s drowning you, man, and I’m not just going to stand here and watch it happen!_

Sam was stunned. He knew Dean was in a different plane, but he’d never thought he may be able to _see_ the currents of Sam’s abilities. He’d wanted to badly to deny that his fears were coming true. Sam sank slowly to the floor, trembling as he went. He’d put this off as long as he could, but he’d always known deep down that this day would come.

 _Sammy?_

Dean’s presence wrapped around him, echoing concern and support. “I…” he faltered.

 _Sam, listen to me. Whatever this secret is, it’s killing you, man. I’m not going anywhere. Let me help._

Sam shut his eyes as tears threatened to spill, and took one last moment to feel the love of his family flow through him. Once Dean knew the truth, there was no way he’d ever be able to feel it again.

He took a deep breath. “Blood calls to blood,” he whispered.

 _Ok, random - is that s’posed to mean something to me?_

“I’m … infected,” he whispered. “I have demon … blood … in me. Yellow-Eyes’ blood. From when I was a baby.” Dean didn’t respond, but the slow rise of anger in his stomach told Sam all he needed to know.

Dean knew the truth, and now he was going to leave.

Sam curled into himself, wrapping his long arms around his legs and burying his head in his knees. The tears were slipping past his tightly shut eyes now, rolling slowly down his cheeks and into his jeans. He’d never felt so dirty, so ashamed. Dean had given everything for him, and he couldn’t have picked a less deserving person.

He was a monster. A freak.

His silent tears turned to painful whimpers as he felt Dean’s presence pull away. He shuddered at the loss, the cold that always came. _Alone_. He was going to be alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“Sam.” A gentle hand rested lightly on Sam’s tear-stained knee. “Sammy, look at me.”

Sam froze, certain that he’d imagined things. He’d communicated with Dean, but he hadn’t _heard_ his brother in weeks. “D..Dean?” God, he sounded like a child.

“Come on, it’s ok. Look at me.”

Sam raised hesitant eyes towards the voice. Looking past the tangled curtain of his long hair, he found himself staring into green eyes – eyes that mirrored his sadness and loss. “Dean?” he choked out, more firmly this time. “What…?” He didn’t dare move, he hardly breathed for fear of breaking the spell.

Dean smiled at him, brought his other hand up to lift Sam’s chin until they were face to face. Sam’s eyes widened in amazement.

Dean looked whole, unmarked. Healed.

Dean’s grip was solid and warm, and his voice carried a tone that offered no room for argument. “Sam, you look me in the eyes when I say this, alright?” Sam nodded weakly. He wouldn’t have been able to pull away even if he’d wanted to. Dean’s gaze was drawing him in like a magnet, like gravity.

“This shit is not your fault. I don’t care what that bastard did you to, you can’t get rid of me that easy, and I’m not ashamed of you.” Dean brought up his other hand then, brushing Sam’s hair out of his face the way he used to do when they were kids and Sam had made a mess over dinner. “And I’m not afraid of you.”He added. He studied his baby brother’s face, searching for the self-doubt that he knew would be there. His voice was steady and unyielding as he asked, “Understand me?”

Sam just stared at him for a moment, unable to speak for the shock of Dean solid and real in front of him – and even more shocking, the words that were coming out of his mouth.

From somewhere he worked up enough air to say, “But … demons did this to you. To our family. _I_ did it. How can you still want … god, Dean, you should have just killed me when Dad told you the truth.” Dean’s gaze hardened and his eyes flashed angrily at the memory.

“No, _I_ did this to me. I did it. Not you, not even that crossroads bitch. Me. I knew what I was doing, and I would do it again. No, look at me – I _would_ , Sam.” It was true. Sam could see it in his brother’s eyes.

He thought of that brief eternity between the hellhounds attacking Dean and the first time he felt Dean call out to him, of how it seemed the world had ended. Finally he understood what it felt like.

Suddenly Sam’s brain caught up with the rest of him. “ _Dean_ ,” he rasped, and his relief overwhelmed him. He lunged forward into his brother’s waiting arms.

“It’s ok, I got you.” Dean’s voice was steady and calming in his ear, and he gripped Sam back fiercely. “Look,” he said, “There’s not much time, alright? I can’t keep this up for long. You need to know something. The dark inside you – that’s not your power. I mean, it is power, but it’s not _yours_. It’s not the one you use to talk to me. It’s the one you use to kill the demons.”

Sam blinked in surprise, wondering how Dean could possibly know that, but he dismissed the thought in the wake of his other revelation, the one where Dean had said _I can’t keep this up for long._

Which meant that Dean was still a spirit after all.

Panic surged up inside of Sam, shoving all other feelings aside. “Dean, what the _hell_ , man? You can’t just …” He pushed away, just far enough to see Dean’s face, but some part of him wouldn’t let go completely, and he settled for gripping Dean’s shoulders tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

Dean just laughed, green eyes sparkling. “Hey, I told you I was a quick learner. ‘Sides, you think you’re the only one who’s been practicing?” Dean’s mischievous grin was infectious, and Sam felt the corners of his own lips twitch upward in response. “Are you okay now?” Dean asked.

“It’s getting stronger, every time I use it, it gets stronger.” Sam blurted out, thinking of the surge of hate and rage that always came when he used the power. Dean gripped Sam’s forearms firmly, fixed him with a determined gaze.

The covering mask of illusion began to fade, and Sam could make out tiny flecks on blood appearing on his brother’s cheek as Dean lost control of it.

“You can beat it. _We_ can beat it, Sam.” he said. Dean began to fade, the firm feeling of his grip becoming an echo of remembered warmth on Sam’s skin.

“Dean!” Sam clutched at thin air, but his brother was gone.

 _I’m right here, Sam. Told you – not going anywhere._

A deep, sleepy sensation filtered through Sam, filling the empty space inside. _Dean._ He felt alright, but he had obviously used a lot of energy. Sam was too drained himself to push the feeling away. Instead he climbed shakily to his feet and stumbled into his bed, giving in to the flow, letting Dean’s weariness pull him under. “Y’okay, Dean?” he slurred.

 _Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need a break._

“Dean?” He whispered.

 _Yeah?_

“Thanks.”

 _Take a nap already, psychic wonder._ Fond amusement rippled through the fog of sleep, and Sam smiled as he shut his eyes to the feeling of what it was like to be accepted, no matter what.

~*~

They hit the road that afternoon, striking for the heart of Oregon. Sam just wanted this to all be _over_. Dean’s excitement was wearing heavily on Sam, fraying his nerves.

 _So tell me about this problem._

“I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s like, there’s this … rage inside. And when I use it, I’m stronger, you know? If I use the … you said _my_ power? If I use _that_ , then it … I dunno. It drains me or something.”

 _So, super-demon killing power, good, telekinesis bad?_

“Well, yeah, except for the –“

 _The rage, yeah. I saw that._

“Last time … it was like … _it_ … wasn’t satisfied with just killing the demon.” Sam paused, thoughtful. “Actually, I kind of feel like the dark power is how it found me in the first place. It’s like I’m … broadcasting to them or something. Ever since I tracked that first one. I can feel them everywhere we go.”

 _Ok. Ok._

“Ok?”

 _I said ok, Sam. We’ll figure it out, I promise._

Sam gripped the wheel, locked eyes with the road, and pressed harder on the gas.

~*~

Sam targeted Lilith with almost no trouble at all. It was almost disappointing, really. He still had Ruby’s hex bags, and when he pulled into Culver he’d pulled the wrapped cloak of dark power firmly around himself like a blanket. If she reached for him, all she would sense was a demon. His connection with Dean seemed muffled underneath the angry current, and dimly he could feel his brother’s worry.

“It’s ok, Dean. We’ll worry about it later. For now, let’s just get this done.” She’d been running from him ever since Indiana. That was going to stop today.

 _Just be careful._

He pulled into the driveway of a cookie-cutter two storey that induced an immediate wave of nausea directly related to déjà vu.

 _Easy does it, Sammy._

Breathing deeply, he sent out his own power, strengthened through the link. He scanned the house lightly, and just as he’d feared, he found not one but three souls inside. _Dean?_

 _Yeah._

 _I’ve got the mother, a son, and a little girl._

 _Lilith in the girl?_

Sam snorted. _‘Course. Where else would she be?_ Demons were nothing if not predictable. Sam was sick of her act. _Can you handle the family?_

 _Yeah. Can you trap her?_

The darkness coiled tightly inside, ready to strike, and Sam’s muscles quivered with anticipation. _Oh, hell yeah._

 _Ok. Let’s do it._

Sam moved into full swing instantly. The front door was a large mahogany monstrosity, and it was in his way. With little more thought than swatting at a fly, Sam blew it off its hinges. He focused on the three souls; two burning brightly, one stained red and black with fear. _Upstairs_.

Dean was already moving ahead of him, and he felt the rush of icy wind as his brother gained momentum. Sam waited at the bottom of the stairs, eyes closed, watching.

The burning light that was Dean’s spirit entered the playroom like a whirlwind. Moving faster than Sam could have ever thought possible, he grabbed the mother and her teenage son, and Sam heard them scream in terror as the invisible forced pulled them from the room and forcefully down the stairs.

No time for explanations. Sam leveled an even stare towards them both. “You want to go and get inside the pantry,” he suggested, tendrils of the gentle power stroking gently across their conscious minds. He held out a canister of salt to the boy, and the boy took it. “Put this in a line across the door, and don’t move from there until I come for you.”

Expressionless, the two of them walked towards the kitchen without a word.

 _Damn, Sammy. Andy’d be proud of you._

Sam smirked. _Got anywhere you wanna be?_ He could feel Dean’s hunger resonating with his own. He pulled the knife. Now or never.

 _We tip her off?_

Sam frowned, listening _. Yeah, but she’s still up there. Guess she feels like playing the odds._

 _Let’s go tell her the odds have changed._

Sam climbed to the top of the stairs and walked resolutely into the playroom. Lilith was sitting primly on the floor, scattered pieces of puzzles and board games splayed across her lap, gently petting the bloody, spattered remains of the family cat. A practiced look of innocence crossed her chubby cheeks.

It was a beautiful little girl. Her dark hair was bobbed to frame her face, and her teardrop eyes were a deep almond brown. Sam’s chest clenched. She couldn’t have been more than five years old.

She jumped up from the floor, dumping the corpse of the Persian cat unceremoniously on the floor. Her eyes widened with childlike delight, and she clapped her hands as she hopped up and down on tiny feet. “Sam! Come play with me!”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. This was a trick, it had to be. He’d found her much too easily. There was a catch. “I don’t think so.” He snarled, brandishing the knife.

The girl’s lower lip jutted out in an ornery pout. “Fine. You’re no fun.” She crossed her arms angrily.

“Cut the games, Lilith. You know why I’m here.”

“Are you going to kill me?” She tilted her head, large brown eyes looking up, up, up into Sam’s hazel ones. “That’s not very nice.”

Sam stepped forward hesitantly. She was calling him out. He’d had the nerve to kill the last child, because he was desperate. It was only Dean that had stopped him, and he’d thanked God for it every day. But now; now he had time. He could find another way. He could exorcise her, maybe – trap her with his power and then kill her.

He wouldn’t kill the girl. He lowered the knife.

“That’s what I thought,” she taunted, all traces of little girl gone from her voice. “After all – if you’d had a spine the last time, maybe your brother wouldn’t be worm food right now.”

Like flipping a switch, the little girl voice returned. “Like Romeo here. Isn’t that right, Romeo? Such a good kitty.” She fixed Sam with her gaze, brown eyes rolling back to white. “Such a pretty plaything.”

Sam made a strangled noise and reached for the light, but the darkness responded first. His hate for Lilith fueled the fire and it raged hot inside him, seeking to devour Lilith, damn the cost, kill the girl, screw them all.

 _Sam, don’t._

Sam clenched his teeth against the dark surge, holding his breath in an effort to contain the swell. The demon inside of the little girl was a vortex in his vision, sucking the light from the room. Her darkness called to his. “Dean,” he gasped, “I can’t.” He lost the words in the whirlwind, and they came out as a desperate plea for help. He focused on the child instead. _Lifehopejoypromise,_ said the light.

 _Sammy, no, you don’t have to. Leave it._

 _Hateragekilldestroy,_ said the darkness.

“Dean, I wan… I _need_ to …” Sam’s words were cut short at the feel of a firm hand on his shoulder, comforting warmth in his soul. The darkness hissed and backed away at Dean’s touch.

“Sam, it’s ok, I got this one.”

Lilith’s little girl attitude dropped instantly. “Wha –“ she dropped her petite mouth open, but words seemed to fail her.

Dean, fully manifested and looking very much alive, stepped around Sam to come in between Lilith and his brother. The hunter’s hunger flashed in his blazing green eyes, and when he grinned widely at the demon, it was full-on predatory.

“Honey, I’m home,” he sang.

“Impossible,” she hissed, curling back into the corner in fear. “I saw you die. I took your _soul_. You’re in Hell!”

Dean moved smoothly towards the cowering girl. Sam was reminded sharply of a leopard stalking its prey. “Well, maybe you ought to ask Sammy about that.” He snapped his fingers and held out his hand to Sam. “Hey Sam,” he asked, never taking his eyes off of Lilith, “I look like I’m in Hell to you?”

Sam took his brother’s wordless cue and placed the handle of Ruby’s knife firmly into the palm of Dean’s hand. “Uh … nope.”

Lilith backed into a corner, white eyes wide, and her palms began to glow. With a flash of blurred motion Dean was there. Sam could tell Lilith was debating whether to run or hide inside the refuge of the little girl’s body.

Looked like she’d picked option number two. “You wouldn’t dare kill this child,” she spat. “You humans are all the same. You made that deal of your own free will, and you got what you wanted. And look at you now – willing to kill an innocent child to save yourself? You’re pathetic.”

Dean smiled. “Oh sweetheart,” he growled. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” Lightning quick, he grabbed Lilith by the throat.

Sam blinked, disbelieving his own eyes until he remembered – Dad had done the same thing for them, once.

Dean hauled Lilith bodily out of the young girl. The girl cried out loudly and ran for Sam, and he swept her up into his arms, holding her tight as she buried her face into his jacket.

Dean’s presence sent ripples of whirling energy tearing through the playroom. The temperature dropped and a chilled wind began to blow as he lifted Lilith with one hand and pinned her slender throat to the playroom wall. “You see, thanks to _you_ ,” he taunted, “I’m not exactly human anymore.”

The illusion of wholeness that Dean projected began to fade. Like watching a slow motion film, his clothes began to rip, and blood began to roll down his chest as his skin was shredded slowly into pieces.

Sam held the little girl close, backing away from the sight. Lilith struggled for breath, choking in Dean’s relentless grip. Her solid form was misty around the edges as though she was trying to turn to smoke, but Dean wasn’t letting her.

At the sight of Dean’s death being replayed, she shrieked.

“That’s right. Scream, you bitch.” Dean plunged the knife deep into the struggling cloud.

Sam hit the floor as the sizzling lightning tore around the room. Dean’s power surged, whipping Sam’s hair into his eyes, and he ducked his head and moved his hands to cover the little girl’s face.

He shut his eyes tight and waited.

In his mind’s eye, the leeching, black void of the demon blinked and vanished. He still counted three human souls, one in his arms, now free; and two downstairs in the kitchen.

Dean’s presence hovered on the edges of his senses, elation and triumph flowing through the link in spades.

Sam risked opening his eyes. Dean was a translucent shadow in the corner, and he stared back at Sam with a stunned expression on his face, and then up towards the ceiling as wonder dawned across his green eyes.

“Dean? What’s happening?” The words came out as a whisper, and Sam barely heard them himself.

 _Light_.

“What? Dean, no, you can’t!” Panic flared to life inside of Sam. _I can’t lose you again. Please, please don’t leave me._

Dean smiled softly, still looking up at something Sam couldn’t see.

 _S’ok, Sammy, not goin’ anywhere_.

Sam stood slowly to his feet, peering intently at his brother’s shade. The girl in his arms shifted then, following his awed gaze. “Pretty colors,” she cooed, reaching out a chubby hand towards the corner.

Dean looked at him then, peace and joy beaming from his face. All at once the specter vanished, swallowed in a burst of the most pure light Sam had ever seen. “Dean!” They hid their faces from the brilliance of the searing blaze. The light descended on his brother, surrounding him, entering him. Sam reached inward and felt for Dean through the link.

Feelings of pure ecstasy echoed back; feelings of _whole_ and _right_ and _home_.

The light faded, and Sam heard footsteps approach across the wooden floor. He looked down into his brother’s eyes. Dean was radiant with wonder, green eyes sparkling in awe.

And suddenly Sam knew. Only one thing he knew of could ever burn so bright and pure. They were halfway to their goal.

Dean had his soul back.

~*~

“A revenant, for real?” Sam laughed.

He still couldn’t believe it. He almost didn’t care that it wasn’t really the same as having Dean back for real; he was just so happy to get to _look_ at Dean again. Suddenly Sam realized he was staring.

“Seriously Sam, I think I’ll show up if you wanna take a picture.” There was no irritation in Dean’s deep voice, and his bright smile reached all the way up to shine in his eyes.

Sam blushed. “Uh – sorry.” He was grinning like an idiot. He tried to stop. Really.

Dean laughed. “Sammy,‘s ok.”

Sam nodded, smile fading a bit at the thought of how far they still had left to go. “This doesn’t fix it, you know. Not completely.”

Dean agreed a bit wistfully. “I know. But we had one damn fine run today, Sammy. Let’s enjoy it, ok?”

Sam nodded. Best day ever. After all, Dean had his _soul_ back. He could feel the difference in Dean, and it wasn’t just that Sam could see him. He was more complete. He was also still talking. “Man, did you _see_ me back there?” Dean shook his head. “Friggin _awesome_.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t exactly live up to the hype.” Sam laughed, thinking of another demon, another archenemy destroyed. “Man, you always get to kill the bosses.”

“I told you, dude. I’m Batman.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam huffed. “Dean? Uh – thanks. Again.” He added.

 _Thanks_ had never been an adequate word to Sam. It was something he’d say to a perfect stranger if they held the door open for him at the bank, or to a waitress for simply doing her job. When it came to what Dean had done for him – there was no word to express how much he owed his brother. So _thanks_ would just have to do.

He knew Dean would understand. _Thanks_ for looking out for me. _Thanks_ for keeping me from slipping back there. _Thanks_ for saving my life. Just … _thanks_.

Dean held his gaze, searching, and nodded. Firm approval flowed over Sam through the link. Dean reached out and shoved Sam away from the door, swiping the keys from his hand.

“Move it, bitch. I’m drivin’.”


End file.
